


Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Blandings13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Canon-typical inability of characters to voice feelings, Dean Winchester to the Rescue, Fluff, Foaling, Horses, M/M, Other, POV Alternating, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Teacher! Cas, Wrangler! Dean, for past animal abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blandings13/pseuds/Blandings13
Summary: Happy in the life he has slowly and painstakingly built for himself, Dean's balance is shaken when he unwittingly meets Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Hello, is it me you’re looking for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I was down in the dumps, and wanted something to make myself feel better. This is the result- a completely self-indulgent, fluffy, trope-y, soft fic. I don't know where it is going, but can promise a happy ending.
> 
> I'll try and post new chapters weekly (on or before Tuesday), and will update the tags as I go along. Also, I feel like I should apologize for the song titles/lyrics I am using as the titles here (both for the fic and its chapters), but I couldn't stop myself! ;)
> 
> Please do not hesitate to leave a comment here or if you’re shy like me, come say hi on my Tumblr under the same username. I’m here if you have any questions or asks, or just want to chat, rant, or gush about anything. I am a little socially awkward myself, and English isn't my first language, so you can be safe in the belief that I will never judge anything you say/write!
> 
> Hope you like the fic!
> 
> -Nick

A strident buzzing woke Dean. His arm shot out towards the phone vibrating on his nightstand before his brain even recognized the opening riff of _Back in Black_. He barely glimpsed at the caller’s name before answering, dragging a hand over his face in an effort to rub away the sleep from his eyes.

‘Sammy? What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Jess, Dean. I’m sorry, did I wake you?’

‘Jess, what’s wrong? Is Sammy okay? Mary?’

‘Everyone’s fine, Dean. Sam’s at work already, he had an early meeting. I’m running late myself, so he told me to call you.’

‘Okay…okay.’ Dean breathed, trying to even his heartbeat.

‘How can I help, Jess?’ he said, calmer than before.

‘Could you take Mary to pre-school? I know it’s short notice, but I have to open the shop today.’

‘Of course I’ll take her, Jess. Are you kidding me? What’s the time? Should I come over right now?’

***

The munchkin sure was cute, Dean thought later, as Jess handed him Mary’s tiny backpack and her Scooby-Doo lunchbox. He’d been unsure whether to pick her the one with just Scooby, but was glad he had gotten one with the whole gang. Just Scooby was her backup lunchbox now.

She had bright blonde curls, like her mother, and long, slender fingers and green-yellow-sunflower eyes, like her father. Dean liked to think she had his knobby knees, but Sam always joked about how he’d prevent the bow-leg from happening before she got too tall.

She chattered at him all the way down the road, one small hand swallowed in his big palm. He just grinned at her stupidly for the entire short half-block.

He’d left Baby at Sam and Jess’s house, wanting to enjoy this short time with his charming niece. The sun was shining, his business was booming, Sammy had a family, and he was happy. What more could a guy ask for?

‘And then, Thomas, and- and Percy, and- Gordon, all go away together. Are you listening, Unca Dean?’

‘You bet I am, sweetheart. Thomas is okay, but be careful about that engine named Sam, okay? He looks shifty.’

‘Sam’s my daddy’s name!’ she said, eyes big and round.

‘I know, that’s why I’m telling you. Now, how are you liking school? Any new friends I should know about?’

She launched happily into a description of what her friends were up to. Dean let her voice wash over him, committing the smallest details and exaggerations to memory. She wouldn’t be this age ever again, after all. If he was getting sappy in his old age, at least he was happy, wasn’t he?

As Dean led Mary towards the small classroom, he was still concentrated on her alone. He placed her lunchbox on a table that was already half full with the other kids’ boxes, and carefully helped her little arms though the straps of her backpack. He knew she liked to wear it and then place it just _so_ under her tiny desk. He looked at her fondly as she made her way through the other kids, seating herself and organizing a box of crayons by color. She was so much like Sammy, Dean thought, eyes bright and proud.

A deep chuckle behind made him look around. He walked back towards the door of the classroom and his next thought was- _Whoa_.

Were teachers allowed to be this sexy? Or was he confusing reality with porn again?

Mussed chestnut hair, a deep blue pullover over black pants, forearms wrapped around a small carton, the vision was chuckling at something a tiny boy following him chirped. The boy looked as though he had a hero-worship thing going, and Dean couldn’t blame him.

Eyes a sparkling cerulean looked up at Dean, the smile in them tugging a response from Dean’s own mouth. The Vision stopped just outside the classroom door, about a foot away from Dean.

‘Tommy, why don’t you start, and I’ll be there in a minute?’ The Vision said to the boy, who shot Dean a fulminating look before entering the classroom. The Vision’s voice was deep and low, making Dean think of waves breaking against a cliff- unwavering and sure.

Trying not to feel guilty at beating the boy’s time with The Vision, Dean scratched the back of his head, directing another covert appraisal at the man.

The Vision was still smiling. ‘Good Morning,’ he greeted, ‘Can I help you?’

‘Morning,’ Dean said. ‘I’m…uh…Dean. Mary’s uncle. Just walked her over.’ He started to extend a hand to shake, but The Vision shot a bemused look at the box he was carrying, signifying his inability to shake hands.

At the last moment, Dean disguised his forward motion as one reaching for the box instead. Smooth, Dean, _smooth_.

‘Let me help you, that looks heavy.’

‘Oh, thanks.’ The Vision wasn’t fooled, but good-naturedly relinquished the box into Dean’s arms. Dean’s fingers brushed over The Vision’s wrist, and he felt heat mounting up the back of his neck.

Was he a teen-ager? Jesus Fucking Christ.

The Vision motioned to Dean to precede him into the room, and following, said, ‘I’m Mr. Novak.’

‘Mr. Novak?’ Dean shot The Vision a smirk.

‘Sorry, force of habit. I’m used to introducing myself to the students.’ The Vision shrugged and motioned Dean towards the teacher’s desk. Dean placed the box there.

‘Castiel,’ The Vision said, extending a hand and smiling.

Dean shook it.

***

‘Earth to Jerk.’

Dean felt something cool near his temple and looked up from his books. Sam, still dressed in his monkey suit, was holding a beer towards him.

‘Bitch,’ Dean said, with relish, fingers wrapping gratefully around the cold bottle. He took a sip thoughtfully, head still buzzing from the figures he had been pouring over.

‘Problem?’ Sam asked, leaning a hip on the desk next to Dean’s ledgers.

‘Nah, numbers just ain’t my thing, man.’

‘You don’t say,’ Sam observed drily, guzzling his own beer bottle, which looked like a toy in his Gargantuan hands.

‘Want me to take a look?’ he offered, after a second.

‘Light day at the office?’ Dean asked.

‘Come on, Dean. Do you still think that brains explode if you overwork them?’ Sam smirked.

Dean rolled his eyes, but closed his books. ‘I’ll look at them tomorrow. Don’t worry about it. How was your meeting?’

‘Went well,’ Sam said. ‘Thanks again for taking Mary.’

Dean grunted. He was seated behind his desk at the ‘office’, which was what he called the desk at the end of the horse stable. An assortment of saddles hung on the metal wall rack next to him, polished and gleaming. Their smell, coupled with the musk of the horses, the sweet-smelling hay, the slight sour smell of the beer, and his brother’s presence, all spelled out ‘home’ for Dean.

It was the end of the day, and the rest of his staff had already left, customarily leaving him to close up.

Dean reared horses. It had taken him a decade of hard work, pinching and scraping, but just at the start of his thirties, he was the proud owner and operator of a small farm, complete with a paddock, a stable, and some grassland for grazing. After refurbishing the stables, he had added an upper floor where he lived and spent most of his ‘free’ time.

He gave horse-riding lessons, rented out a few horses as studs, and had even built a reputation for show horses, which he trained painstakingly to perform tricks. His horses had worked in three Hollywood productions so far, and he was damned proud of everything he had achieved- not the least of which was putting Sammy through law school.

Obviously, Sam had helped. Working part-time at whichever local diner would take him, he had studied hard, and had only moved out four years ago when he married Jess. Sam still spent alternate weekends at the farm, mucking out stalls or giving lessons, basically pitching in wherever Dean needed a hand.

‘So, anything interesting happen today?’ Sam asked nonchalantly.

Dean shot him a suspicious look. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘You sneaky son of a bitch.’

‘What?’ Sam’s eyebrows jerked upward. He tried to look innocently insulted, but Dean knew him too well.

‘You knew I didn’t have to open up at the farm today. You knew I’d be sleeping-in, and that I’d be free to take Mary.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Sam said.

‘Why don’t you stay out of my business, Sammy?’

‘In all fairness, I _did_ have a meeting, and Jess _did_ have to open. He’s cute, though, isn’t he?’

Dean snorted. ‘Cute doesn’t even begin to cover it. Wait, I mean, stop! Do you think I need my baby brother setting me up with someone, like I’m some kind of loser?’

‘I knew it,’ Sam’s face was lit with an unholy smile, all teeth and cheekbones. ‘He’s not your usual type, but there was something about him that I- I just _knew_ you’d like him! Ha!’

Dean didn’t respond, but continued to stare at the bottle in his hands as if it had personally wronged him.

‘You’re not a loser, Dean. You’re a fucking workaholic.’

‘I’ve built something here, Sammy. People depend on me.’

‘I know that, asshole. I’m proud of you. But having a fulfilling career doesn’t mean you can’t have someone to share it with.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Just ‘cuz you lucked out with Jess, the rest of us should shack up and get married.’

‘Well...’ Sam trailed off suggestively, one corner of his mouth perking up in a grin.

‘I’m not-!’ Dean began.

‘I never said you were lonely, Dean. But I think that Castiel is.’

‘What?’

‘He recently moved here. Took over from Mrs. Harvelle since she quit to take care of her family. He’s been teaching Mary’s class for the past month or so now. I like him. Jess and I had him over for dinner, and we got the feeling the guy misses home.’

‘Is that even allowed? I mean, having your kid’s teachers over for dinner? You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?’

‘It’s pre-school, Dean.’ Sam rolled his eyes.

‘Whatever,’ Dean grumbled. The Vision was lonely. Poor guy.

‘So? Did you tell him about me? Is he even gay?’ Dean heard himself asking.

‘He’s gay. Although I didn’t ‘tell’ him about you. What are you- fourteen?’

‘Shut up.’

‘Oh, Dean. Always with the snappy comebacks. I guess you’ll be walking Mary over a lot more now, huh?’

‘Shut up, bitch,’ Dean snapped. Then he added, considering, ‘How about I take over Mondays?’

‘Sure, jerk,’ Sam chortled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The SS Dean has sunk, folks. What do you think will happen next? Feel free to leave me a comment and I'll try my best to respond!


	2. My life is brilliant; my love is pure. I saw an angel; of that I'm sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I'm posting a day early, I couldn't wait. Hope you like the chapter! :)
> 
> -Nick

‘I already fed him, you know? Just like I do for all the horses, every morning.’

‘Bite me, Jody,’ Dean muttered, trying to hide the apple he had sneaked in for Max, by holding it close to his chest.

‘Original! Did you think of that all on your own?’ Jody stared daggers into Dean’s back. Dean, still inside Max’s stall, was yet to turn around, but he still _felt_ her disapproval.

Dean loved his horses; they were all his babies. But Max? Max was- the most like him. He was the first show horse Dean had trained. A beautiful black stallion, he was hot-tempered, young, and snarky. Max responded more to Dean’s thoughts than his verbal or hand commands.

So what if he wanted to share an apple with Max? Dean wasn’t scared of Jody. Not that he’d ever show it, anyway.

‘Come on, out with it. You’ve been weird for weeks now. What’s eating at you?’ Jody asked.

Dean did not respond. Holding the apple between his palms and fingers, he applied a small amount of pressure until it broke into two halves along the core. In reaction to the small crunch, Max’s ears twitched, and he gave a small snort.

‘Dean, I’m not going anywhere,’ Jody persisted.

‘Fine!’ Dean snapped. Walking over to Max’s head, he placed his cheek over the soft fur between Max’s eyes. Max let him rub for a minute, before shaking his big head up and down. Dean surreptitiously fed him one of the apple halves and pushed the other into his pocket for his other favorite.

As Max crunched enthusiastically, Dean turned towards Jody. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her eyebrows were raised in her patented ‘Mom’ look.

‘Well?’ she asked.

‘It’s nothing, Jody,’ Dean shrugged, raising both hands in an empty gesture.

The Mom look seemed to intensify, although Jody didn’t say anything.

Behind Dean, Max blew a raspberry. ‘Be cool, Max,’ Dean admonished under his breath.

‘It’s your own fault for teaching him that. Now, are you going to tell me, or bluster around some more?’

Dean huffed. ‘It’s a guy, okay?’

‘I’d never have guessed,’ Jody observed wryly. ‘And?’

‘Well, I’ve been-sort of- working up to asking him out. But I don’t think he’s the kind who appreciates that sort of thing, you know?’

‘What? You finally found someone who didn’t immediately lose the power of speech just by the sight of your chiselled jaw?’

‘Jody,’ Dean grumbled, embarrassed.

‘I like him already,’ Jody said, softening. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

Dean fell into step beside her, as they both walked towards the paddock where Donna was exercising the yearlings.

‘I don’t have one, per se. I’ve met him a total of four times so far. He’s really smart, and funny, but it’s a sort of dry humor, you know? And kinda dark. He’s got these eyes that you want to drown in, and this hair that makes you want to keep running your fingers through it, you know?’

‘Oof,’ Jody grimaced. ‘One of those, hanh? Sounds like you’ve got it bad.’

‘I’m only telling you because I know you won’t stop harassing me otherwise. He’s not my usual kinda guy, or girl, or person, and I’m not sure how to…proceed. I don’t wanna mess this up, you know? He seems almost _innocent_ ; I think it’s something in his expression.’

Jody didn’t say anything. They matched steps as they walked, and Dean continued.

‘I’ve gotten the impression that he’s not ready for anything romantic or a relationship or whatever. Sam thinks he’s lonely, and I think he’s hurting. I just want to…help him.’ Dean stopped talking, suddenly concerned by how _much_ he wanted to help Castiel. Just make him feel better, stop hurting, or shield him somehow from whatever dark emotion Dean had glimpsed behind the smile.

Jody placed a hand on Dean’s arm to make him stop walking. She knew that Dean’s confident assertiveness served to mask his mushy centre. Despite his cockiness, Dean wasn’t a roll-in-the-hay kind of person. He formed deep, lasting attachments. It was the _only_ way he functioned. Even in this small town, Dean did not have any acquaintances. He had friends, people who he loved. Family. If you came into Dean’s life wanting to be a casual-nodding buddy, then too bad for you. If Dean liked you, you were his family. He would protect you fiercely, even from himself. And so would Jody protect Dean, even from himself.

Staring directly into his eyes, she said, ‘Dean, isn’t it a good thing that he’s not the kind of guy who just falls into step and is ready to follow you unquestioningly? It’s nice that you want to help him, and it’s nice that you’re _interested_ in him. Maybe just try being his friend first?’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Dean smiled, after a moment. ‘I’ll call him over, maybe show him the farm?’

‘Sounds great! And you can bat those green-apple eyes at him and innocently offer to give him a riding lesson. But just because you want to help him, okay? And totally not as an excuse to get your hands on him.’

‘Bite me, Jody,’ Dean reverted to his standard, unable to deny the truth of Jody’s jibe.

‘There he is. Chick-flick moment over.’ Jody smiled and placed a supporting arm around him as she waved to Donna.

***

The past four Mondays had gone by in a blur. The rest of the month, however -every single minute between one Monday and the next- seemed to pass slowly, as if time was suspended in syrup. Dean threw himself into work, sweating through the mucking and the physical labour, a pair of guileless blue eyes always at the back of his mind. There was something positively angelic about The Vision, or Cas, as Dean called him in his head.

Each Monday that Dean had accompanied Mary to school, he had engaged Cas in conversation, drawing him out carefully, determined not to offend, dialing down his innate urge to flirt.

Cas was a study in contradiction: he was tall, nearly as tall as Dean’s 6’1’’, but his frame was broad where Dean’s was slender. The sweaters and khakis Cas wore hinted at a muscled physique, all seconded by his deep voice, but his actions and his words were soft, gentle, even delicate somehow. He was completely clueless about some things, and a veritable fount of knowledge about others. Castiel would jabber cheerfully about books he had read, but was immensely close-lipped about the other aspects of his life. Dean did not know why he was alone now, nor did he think he could just ask. Castiel had led a sheltered life as a child, he had confessed to Dean casually, having been adopted at a young age. From other comments, Dean formed the impression that Castiel had been uprooted suddenly, and he had been forced to fend for himself, alone in the world. Dean’s heart still ached at the picture Castiel’s careful words conjured. Dean was no stranger to responsibility from a young age, but at least he had always had Sam.

‘Good Morning, Mr. Winchester.’

The deep rumble tightened the pressure in Dean’s chest, and loosened his stomach muscles into molasses. Apparently, Dean was quite contrary himself.

‘I’ve told you a hundred times already, call me Dean.’

‘And I’ve told you, Mr. Winchester, that I cannot risk my job here by being too familiar with my pupils’ parents or guardians.’

‘All right, then, Mr. Novak,’ Dean snapped. Pupils? Who even talked like that?

Though if he was being honest, Dean _liked_ the way Cas talked. This was certainly a surprise to him. Who knew that of all things, _this_ would get his juices flowing? Not a dirty mouth, but a cultured one. Well, that was just it, wasn’t it? It was Cas that Dean liked, and not the culture or the private-school words. Just Cas.

Dean looked over at the kids milling about before ‘class’ actually started. Mary, as usual, was busy organizing her supplies, forehead scrunched in concentration as a wayward crayon refused to fall into line. Dean couldn’t help but smile proudly and reminiscently at her Sammy-ness. Regardless of how things went, or did not go, with Cas, Dean was happy he had made some time for his niece. Even though the constant lack of sleep _was_ catching up with him.

‘She’s such a bright child,’ Cas rumbled next to him, his voice low and soft.

Dean looked up just in time to see the cobalt eyes glittering kindly over Mary before they met the green of Dean’s. As Dean had come to expect, Cas looked away before Dean could deepen the look. Cas never met his eyes for longer than a second at a time. Every time the green began to smoulder, Cas would look away, as though embarrassed. Though frustrated, Dean told himself he was grateful for this. He even enumerated the reasons in his head. One, he could continue to let his eyes rake tenderly over the angles of that strong face without fear of judgement, and two, he hoped he would hold out longer if that blue did not constantly drown him. But a part of him already knew that the ocean had already claimed him for its own.

After looking his fill for a minute, Dean cleared his throat and said, ‘She is, isn’t she? She sure brightens my Monday.’

‘Perhaps you should accompany her more often, then?’

‘Would you like me to?’ Dean couldn’t help but ask, giving Cas a curious and hopeful side-eye.

‘Uh…I…That’s…I mean…it’s completely up to you. I didn’t mean…’

‘Breathe,’ Dean cut Cas off. ‘It’s alright. I can’t bring her over every day, her parents have dibs. And I can’t bail on work. Mondays are the only day of the week I don’t start at the break of dawn.’

‘Oh,’ Cas mumbled.

‘Do you like horses?’ Dean asked, all the fingers of each hand crossed inside the pockets of his jacket.

‘I don’t object to them, in principle. But I’ve never met one.’

‘Right,’ Dean smirked. ‘Well, Mr Novak, why don’t you come over to the farm and I’ll introduce you to a couple?’

‘To your farm?’

‘Yup. Singer’s. It’s a small ranch-slash-farm on the other side of town. I can give you directions?’

‘I think I’ve passed through it a couple of times. I’m sure I can find it. Um…is it a ranch or is it a farm?’

‘Why don’t you come and see for yourself?’ Dean challenged.

Cas looked at his shoes.

‘So that’s a yes?’ Dean asked, never one to give up.

‘Ye…s?’ Castiel looked wary.

‘Good. Come around anytime. I mean, tomorrow. Come around tomorrow. Whatever time you like. I live there, so it’s no problem.’

‘I can’t… tomorrow,’ Cas said, meeting the green eyes for once. Dean’s face fell imperceptibly.

‘Can you…make time for me on Sunday?’ Cas muttered.

‘Sunday,’ Dean’s voice was a promise. His smile could have melted the sun, but Cas was no longer looking at him.

‘And you’ll introduce me to the horses?’ Cas asked, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

‘I will.’

‘Incidentally,’ Castiel said. ‘Do horses bite?’

‘Listen, Cas. No horse of mine bites anyone unless I tell ‘em to. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ Castiel mumbled. ‘Cas?’ he asked after a moment.

‘Hm?’

‘You called me Cas.’

‘Oh,’ Dean said, nervous again. ‘That’s how I think of you. Didn’t realize I’d said it out loud. Sorry.’

‘No, I quite like it,’ Cas smiled tentatively, blue eyes scorching into Dean’s very soul.

Dean let the waves batter him for a minute, and Cas did not look away. Reminding himself to breathe, Dean cleared his throat. ‘See you Sunday, then?’

Cas nodded, eyes finally lowering. ‘Um…how often do you think about me?’

What. The. Fuck. Was Cas flirting with him? ‘What?’ Dean managed to utter.

‘You said you think about me as Cas.’

‘Pffft,’ Dean said. ‘Not that often,’ he mumbled, studying his own boots. His face was on fire.

Castiel smiled sweetly, two pink spots appearing over his own cheekbones.

‘I’m…gonna go,’ Dean said, wanting to leave before he did something stupid like brush at the pink spots, or stroke Castiel’s hair away from his eyes, or tear his clothes off and bang Castiel like a drum in front of a room full of small children.

Cas nodded again, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

As Dean left the room, he could have sworn he heard a soft rumble follow him. ‘See you soon, Dean.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dean! What do you think? Is there a light at the end of the tunnel (or is it Hellfire)?
> 
> See you next week! :)


	3. Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream. Make him the cutest that I've ever seen

‘Morning, Dean!’

Dean jumped, and turned to see Donna approaching him.

‘Morning, Donna. How are you today?’

‘Very well, thank you! Why are we talking like this?’

‘Like what? This is how I usually talk. What’re you even saying?’

‘Okay, then.’ Donna shot him another puzzled look, agreeing to buy whatever he was selling.

Dean was as skittish as a horse, and not one of his own ones, thank you very much. He’d made it a point not to hover over the horses today so that they wouldn’t pick up on his nervousness. Each small sound made him jump out of his skin, and look hopefully towards the door, expecting to see Cas.

‘Um, Dean, did you clean all the tack again?’

‘Yeah, I…woke up early, and had two hours to kill. Why?’

‘I thought Saturday was Cleaning Day. Today’s Sunday, right? Didn’t we clean the tack yesterday?’

‘Uh…yeah, you’re right. I guess I forgot.’

‘Are you okay, Dean? You look a little green around the gills.’

‘I’m fine, Donna.’

Even Donna didn’t buy it this time. Dean thought it best to employ evasive manoeuvres.

‘So, we don’t have anything scheduled this morning, right?’ he asked.

‘Nah. I’ll take care of the produce, and Jody already has the yearlings outside. You don’t have any lessons today, but Rufus promised to come by this evening to check on Leia. Though knowing him, he probably won’t move any more than he absolutely has to on a Sunday.’

‘Okay, thanks, Donna. As for Leia, I think she’s doing okay. Should be any day now. What do you think?’

‘I think she’s as brave as they come. She’ll be alright, Dean. Don’t worry.’

‘Thanks, Donna.’

‘So, what do you have planned? Going to do something with Max?’

‘I think so. I have to catch up on some paperwork. And then Max’ll be my reward.’

Donna smiled at him and walked away to start her morning routine. She came back in about a minute.

‘Dean,’ she said accusingly. ‘Do you not like my work anymore?’

‘What?’

‘The stalls are already clean, there’s fresh hay; you’ve already stocked the feed and prepped the oats.’ She counted off each task with a jab of her finger as she spoke. ‘I mean, do you not like the way I do it?’

‘No, Donna. Your way is great! I just…woke up really early and wanted some busy work.’ Dean’s hand was at the back of his neck, and he tried not to look guilty.

‘Hmm,’ Donna said. ‘And you also cleaned the tack. How early did you wake up? Do you even need me around? I guess I should be happy you already did everything? Guess I can just go home after I look after the crops.’

‘Yeah, why don’t you do that? Sorry, Donna,’ Dean muttered sheepishly.

Donna frowned at him before walking away. As agreeable as she usually was, the frown was tantamount to a kick in the balls. Damn, Dean just knew she was going to sic Jody on him.

***

As Castiel drove towards Dean’s ranch-slash-farm, he gave himself a stern talking-to. He had prepared a mental check-list of sorts, enumerating each thing about Dean that he found mesmerizing. He hoped that if he approached this morass of feelings methodically, he could isolate and then tackle each one separately. His knuckles whitened as he clutched the steering wheel tighter. Castiel hoped that he could counter each feeling Dean evoked in him. He hoped.

Dean was the first person for whom Castiel had ever felt something this big. His reaction to Dean had been automatic, visceral. When Dean swaggered into his classroom a month ago, the attraction had been instinctive, like breathing. While this was concerning enough on its own, what affected Castiel more was the obvious _permanence_ of the feeling. He felt as though some part of him had known Dean in a past life, as if this part had been biding its time, just waiting for Dean to actually manifest, so that the rest of Castiel could catch up. 

Dean was beautiful. The faded jeans and t-shirts he wore, sometimes with and sometimes without a plaid overshirt, sleeves rolled up to expose his corded forearms, all made Castiel weak. Dean had rough palms and slender fingers, both calloused with the toils of manual labour, and Castiel cherished each tiny imperfection he felt against his own skin every time he shook Dean’s hand. How odd it was that Castiel had never before actively looked for any of these particular traits in a partner, but in Dean these were not only a pleasing add-on, but a thrilling reason for the attraction- among a million others. Those green eyes definitely brightened his day, glittering at him intensely, emotive but soft. Castiel yearned to learn all their secrets. The uniform dusting of golden freckles all over Dean’s face made Castiel wonder about how expansive their cover was. Did the freckles form over Dean’s chest? Did they sprinkle all the way down to his legs? These questions and the resulting guilt kept Castiel awake till the small hours of the night, squirming uncomfortably.

The other major items on the mental list covered, Castiel brought the best thing about Dean to the forefront of his brain.

Dean was _kind_. It was as though each of his motions was calculated to put Castiel at his ease. He was a bit abrasive, but his presence itself was soothing. Castiel expected him to be a warm person. And that was wonderful because Castiel had never known anyone who was warm. He remembered, as though from a different life, that his parents had tried to be kind to him: his mother had reminded him numerous times about the generosity of the allowance he had been given, both as a child and as an adult. But those memories were linked with a lot of ugly emotions. All those conversations with his mother had ended with him caving down to her wishes, and doing all she asked. That life wasn’t his anymore, he reminded himself.

Castiel thought about Dean’s family. He had definitely liked Sam and Jess, and Mary was an absolute treasure. It was obvious to the meanest intelligence that the Winchesters all loved each other. Not dutifully, like he had been taught that a family was supposed to, but…joyfully. The love flowed through them like a river, accepting faults, soothing insecurities, and strengthening weaknesses. What must it be like to be loved that way? The way Dean loved his family? Could Castiel be permitted to find out?

No, his mother’s voice answered instantly in the back of his mind.

Castiel sighed. No one had ever loved him. And why should they? He had done nothing to deserve it. He was a spoiled, undutiful son who had failed miserably at the life his parents had planned for him.

Castiel dejectedly drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. The happiness he had felt since Monday had long since evaporated. Did he really want to meet Dean when he felt so broken?

He would be at Singer’s soon. Perhaps he should call Dean and cancel. But- he did not have Dean’s number. Maybe he could call Sam?

At the thought of returning to his empty single-bedroom, Castiel felt absolutely wretched. With an effort, he sat a little straighter in the car, and imagined the negative feelings rolling out of him like waves. On the day he had left his parents’ home, he had promised himself that he would never again be afraid of experiencing life. He refused to let his mother dictate his life now. Wasn’t that the point?

If being near Dean made him happy, then by God he would be happy. He _wanted_ to be near Dean, so he would be. He would be Dean’s friend; he would make himself into someone who was worthy of Dean’s love- even if Dean’s love was platonic. Castiel’s heart cracked a little at the thought of Dean loving him as a friend.

***

The sign was hand-painted. Bold, black letters read “Singer’s”. Just the one word. Did Dean like to sing? Castiel dimly remembered Mary mentioning someone named Singer- perhaps a grandfather? Wondering who Singer was, Castiel got back into his pre-owned hatchback after closing the big iron gate behind him, and proceeded down the makeshift road towards the looming building.

He wondered idly if the sounds of cars still scared horses or if they were used to them. Seeing a truck parked sloppily a little way from the building, he angled his car into the adjacent space, trying to park as straight as possible. Exiting the car, Castiel heard two male voices raised in anger, and worriedly quickened his steps.

Dean was squared up against a heavy-set man wearing a pair of loose jeans and a boxy jacket.

Two women stood behind Dean, offering both emotional and physical support, if their stance was anything to go by. As Castiel drew closer, Dean caught his eye and gave him the ghost of a smile.

‘Cas,’ he greeted quietly. ‘I’ll be with you in a second. Styne here was just leaving.’ Dean grinned threateningly at the man, who, Castiel thought, looked to be angling for a fight.

‘Take your time, please,’ Castiel mumbled, stopping just beside the shorter, ponytailed blonde after nodding at them both. All of them were now grouped solidly behind Dean.

‘I ain’t going anywhere, Winchester. Not until you give me what you owe me, you fucking swindler.’ The man shoved Dean backward a full step. Dean held up both his arms and breathed in deeply.

‘Get the fuck off my property, Styne. The first shot was free, but one more, and I won’t hold back.’

‘I ain’t scared of you, boy. Give me my money or I’m taking that nag back,’ the man screeched, teeth bared, spit flying, as he got into Dean’s face again.

‘I won her fair and square. I gave you your money already. You aren’t getting anywhere near her again. Clear the fuck out!’ Dean’s voice rose, but still vibrated with careful control.

Before Castiel could do anything, the man’s fist cocked back and hurtled towards Dean’s face. Dean planted his feet, and spun his torso slightly to the right. The man’s fist sailed harmlessly through the air, where Dean caught his forearm and pushed him back.

‘Last chance, Styne,’ Dean said warningly.

The man came at him again. Dean took a considerable hit to the shoulder as if it had barely touched him, and pivoted in a smooth move. Dean’s fist connected with the man’s stomach, then the side of his face, and with a last uppercut to the jaw, the man crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Dean straightened slowly.

A small sound escaped Castiel’s lips. ‘It’s okay,’ the ponytailed blonde murmured to him- in a voice trained to soothe nervous animals.

‘No, I know,’ Castiel heard himself say. ‘It’s just… He moves so confidently, like a fist poem.’

‘A fist poem, you betcha,’ the woman smiled.

‘You know what I mean,’ Cas grinned awkwardly at her.

‘Donna,’ she nodded, extending a hand. ‘This is Jody.’

‘Castiel,’ Castiel said, shaking hands and turning slightly to include Jody in his smile.

‘We know,’ Jody smirked.

‘I’m sorry about that, Cas,’ Dean growled. Castiel turned to see him shaking his hand jerkily at the wrist as if that would lessen the pain in his throbbing knuckles.

‘Don’t be, Mr…’

‘Dean,’ Dean growled.

‘Dean,’ Castiel agreed, his brain too mushy to argue. His upbringing had taught him to detest physical violence of any kind, but when Dean’s fists moved, they did not strike him as violent. Dean moved in a kind of dance, light on his feet, each movement perfectly choreographed.

‘Where did you learn how to fight?’ Castiel asked him.

‘Used to box, bare-knuckled, in my misspent youth. Easy money,’ Dean shrugged. 

They looked around at the sound of Donna emptying a bucket of water onto Styne’s head. He came to, dazed and soaking. Donna placed a hand under one of his arms, and Jody did the same under the other. Together, they walked him back to his truck.

‘Should we…um…call the police? The Sheriff?’ Castiel asked.

‘No need,’ Dean smiled at him, and Castiel looked away quickly.

Dean motioned toward the stables, and Castiel preceded him inside.

‘Who was that man?’ Castiel asked.

‘Just a horse trader. Forget about him.’

‘As you wish,’ Castiel agreed.

Castiel had never visited any kind of stable before. He did not know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this. A high ceiling let in plenty of light and air, and every surface gleamed. There were roomy, high stalls for the horses, but they were empty. The stables smelled of leather, fresh hay, lavender, and lemon. The musk of the horses was faint, and, to Castiel’s surprise, pleasant.

At the end of the room was a sturdy work table and chair. Saddles and bridles hung from the wall next to the desk, polished and gleaming a dull, rich bronze. The smell of leather intensified. There was another smell, something Castiel couldn’t recognize: something earthy, fresh, and somehow tinged with spice.

Castiel turned around to find Dean very close to him. It was Dean’s scent. And it went straight to Castiel’s head like finely aged whiskey.

All he could see was emerald eyes and freckly skin, all he could smell was Dean. His breathing slowed involuntarily, gulping in Dean’s smell as if it were ambrosia.

‘So?’ Dean asked, after a moment. His voice was soft and hoarse, and went straight to Castiel’s groin.

‘Um…what?’ Castiel said, taking a halting step backwards and trying to clear his head.

‘What do you think?’ Dean asked.

‘It’s amazing. I…didn’t think it would be so light and airy.’ Castiel managed to say.

‘Yeah, we stopped using the dungeon last year. The horses prefer natural light.’ Dean was smiling at him, his eyes soft.

‘You have a dungeon?’ Castiel asked, brain going into overdrive.

Dean chuckled lightly. ‘Such a dork,’ he said.

Castiel had nothing to say in response. He looked down and his eyes fell on Dean’s right hand- the knuckles were torn and bloody. Castiel winced in sympathy.

‘You should…take care of your hand,’ he said.

‘It’s nothing. I’ve had much worse.’

‘I’m sure you have. But at least ice it. You don’t want your knuckles to be stiff and get infected, do you?’ Castiel practically cooed at Dean, speaking as if to a child. Which, Dean thought, considering Castiel’s profession, wasn’t altogether surprising.

Dean held his breath as Castiel reached for his hand, tender fingers cupping around Dean’s palm.

‘Do you have a first-aid kit?’ Castiel asked.

‘Top left drawer,’ Dean responded, nodding towards the desk.

After getting the small box, Castiel came back to Dean and picked up his hand again. He pulled Dean forward by the wrist until he could ease his butt on the desk, with Dean standing in front of him, hand clasped in Castiel’s own, the box open on the desk beside Castiel’s thigh.

Dean tried to breathe evenly. It wasn’t a hardship to ignore the pain, not when Dean’s mind was occupied with so many different sensations. Cas’s fingers were soft, his touch soothing and burning-hot at the same time. Dean tried to focus on the blue of his eyes, and when that didn’t help with his breathing, he stared into Cas’s hair as his head bent over Dean’s hand. It looked thick and unruly, and Dean’s fingers ached to touch it.

Cas’s strong presence mixed in with all the things that smelled like home to Dean. Dean’s chest swelled, and his heart actually ached at the sensation.

‘Am I hurting you?’ Cas rumbled softly, blowing his breath on Dean’s knuckles to ease the sting of the antiseptic.

‘N…No,’ Dean stammered.

‘There, all done!’ Castiel said. Dean did not move his hand back, but curled his fingers slightly into Castiel’s, savouring the feel of his skin.

‘Thanks, Nurse Novak.’

Castiel smiled toothily at him, and Dean’s already stumbling heart fell at Cas’s feet.

They heard the sound of an approaching car, and Dean recognized it instantly. ‘I know I told you I’d show you around, but that may have to wait. Do you mind sticking around for some more time? Or do you have other plans?’

‘No, I’ll stay,’ Castiel heard himself say.

Dean smiled at him again. One finger flicked at Castiel’s nose, as Dean drew back.

‘Come on!’ Dean said, and pulled Castiel out of the stables.

‘Unca Deeeean!’ came a voice from outside and Dean stopped, distributing his weight on both feet as Mary entered at a run and launched herself into Dean’s arms.

Sam and Jess followed her in more slowly, identical smiles on each face. Sam clapped a hand on Dean’s shoulder and then came over to place the same hand over Castiel’s. He didn’t seem surprised to see Castiel there.

Jess placed a kiss on Dean’s cheek and smiled at Castiel.

‘What happened there?’ she asked, gesturing towards Dean’s bandaged hand.

‘Nothing, just an ass-’ Dean began.

‘Butt!’ Castiel said loudly, stopping Dean with a pointed glance toward Mary.

‘Guess it was an assbutt,’ Dean said, becomingly snarky.

‘Who?’ asked Sam.

‘Styne,’ Dean responded quietly.

‘Is he still sore about the bet?’ Sam frowned.

Dean nodded. ‘You would’ve been proud of me, Sammy. I didn’t even throw the first punch. But he just wouldn’t leave.’

‘Dean was provoked, he was just defending himself,’ Castiel rumbled quietly.

‘Yeah? I’m impressed,’ Sam smiled at Dean.

Dean just huffed, his attention diverted by Mary, who, after saying hello to Castiel, had come back to place a small kiss on Dean’s bandaged knuckles.

‘I could make it better if I had magic hair,’ Mary said quietly, as Dean picked her up is his arms.

‘We saw _Tangled_ yesterday,’ Jess explained.

‘Who says it isn’t magic?’ Dean asked Mary as he started to walk outside with Jess.

Castiel and Sam exchanged a glance. ‘Styne and Dean had a bet?’ Castiel asked.

‘Yeah,’ Sam said. ‘Dean probably won’t like it if I tell you, which is reason enough for me.’

Castiel squinted his eyes at Sam, trying to figure out if he was joking.

‘Styne’s a horse trader. One of those lower life forms. He doesn’t like us, and the feeling’s mutual, so Dean never buys from him. Styne had this horse, he mistreated her until she was a starving bag of bones, blind from infection. Almost lame with neglect. Word is that he used to beat the poor thing.’

‘I’d like to punch him myself,’ Castiel growled, fury darkening his eyes.

‘You have the hands for it,’ Sam observed. ‘Well, Dean tried to buy the mare from Styne, but he wouldn’t sell, even though Dean quoted a price that was more than fair. Dean challenged him to a round of pool. The bet was that if Dean won, Styne would have to hand over the mare at the price Dean suggested. Dean would pay double the amount if Styne won.’

‘What happened?’

‘Dean beat him, fair and square. He handed over the money, rescued the poor horse, but Styne’s still sore about it. Wants more money, claims Dean cheated.’ Sam motioned to Castiel and they, too, left the stable to join the others.

***

The rest of the day passed in a haze of happiness for Dean. He had his family with him- Sam, Jess, and Mary laughing at his side. And Cas was there, more relaxed and happier than Dean had ever seen him. The horses had taken to him well, with his hesitant and gentle touch, and his low voice. Dean felt more hopeful than he had in a long while. When he apologized to Cas for not planning better and not being able to give him more time, Cas just waved it aside with a shy smile.

At one point, when it was just the two of them, Mary, in the abrupt way of really young children, asked Dean what his dream was. Remembering what Jess had said, Dean cast his mind back to the song from _Tangled_.

He sang, ‘I have dreams like you, no really. Just much less touchy-feely!’ Mary’s giggles as he tickled her settled into his memory to set the seal on a perfect day- minor Styne inconvenience excluded. Though, Dean reasoned, he did have Styne to thank for the feel of The Vision’s warm fingers cupping his own hand.

Late that night, as Dean tried to will himself to sleep, alone in his house above the stables, his last coherent thought was that maybe he did have a new dream. Maybe Castiel was his dream.


	4. Animals and children tell the truth, they never lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another one. Hope you like it! The title is taken from the [Animal Song by Savage Garden](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nc2C9PQJ2A).

Castiel was a mess on Monday. Unable to deny his feelings for Dean any longer, he had tossed and turned deep into the small hours of Sunday night, until, entirely defeated, his brain had conjured up an image of Dean holding him. With the memory of Dean’s scent still fresh in his mind, he had fallen asleep.

He woke up early and rushed to school. The morning moved slowly by as he waited eagerly for Dean to come over with Mary. Mondays were his days, after all.

But neither Mary nor Dean came.

It served him right, Castiel thought. Wrestling with his emotions, he heard his mother’s voice in his head as clearly as if he was a child again. You’re deluding yourself. Dean doesn’t have any feelings for you. He smiles at everyone; he cares about everyone. That’s just how he is. You’re not special. He saved that poor mare, he saves everyone.

But here, Castiel stopped. If Dean saved everyone, who saved Dean? Dean had been coming over with Mary every week for more than a month now. He wouldn’t just stop. And Mary hadn’t come either. Perhaps something had happened?

His brain conjured up a picture of Dean, alone in his house above the stables. Sick, injured, with no one to take care of him.

He was being ridiculous. Dean had a family; Dean didn’t need anyone to look after him, certainly not Castiel. But just in case, perhaps he could drop by at Sam and Jess’s house, just to check on Mary? Wasn’t that something a concerned teacher would do? And he could ask after Dean, too.

He felt a stab of guilt and disgust at this duplicity. Using a child in his care as a reason to spy on someone he liked, someone he was more than halfway in love with already. Was that who he was?

It was late afternoon by the time he left the school building. He had some grocery shopping to do, and his chores had piled up since he had been otherwise engaged yesterday. Emotionally wrung out, he could not drum up the energy for anything. There was some bread left in the fridge, he could make do with some kind of sandwiches if he felt like eating.

He aimed heavy steps toward his house, and only turned around when he heard the toot of a car horn behind him. Jess was pulling up, Mary seated in a booster seat in the back. Castiel felt a twinge of hope. Maybe there was a God after all?

‘Hey, Castiel!’ Jess called, and Castiel bent to speak to her through her window.

‘Hi, Mr. Novak! Hi!’ Mary smiled at him sweetly.

‘Hello, Mary, Jess. How are you both?’ Since his visit to the stables, Castiel had revised his policy about appearing too familiar with a child’s parents, or maybe it was just this particular family he did not mind being familiar with.

‘We’re okay, thanks. Though we had a late start this morning, and I couldn’t get Mary to school. I’m sorry about that.’

‘Oh, no problem,’ said Castiel, pointedly not asking the foremost question in his brain.

Jess took pity on him.

‘I called Dean in the morning, to let him know not to come over. He sounded tired.’

‘Oh?’ Castiel asked, carefully polite.

‘Go see Unca Dean! He likes you!’ Mary piped up, to Castiel’s surprise and Jess’s discomfiture.

‘Um…’ Jess said. ‘Sorry, she doesn’t mean-’

‘It’s completely all right,’ Castiel could not help but smile at Mary.

‘Anyway, just thought we’d say hello,’ said Jess.

‘It was nice running into you. Bye, Mary!’ Castiel waved as Jess pulled out.

Fuck it all, Castiel thought later, on his way to Singer’s with some takeout on the seat next to him.

***

Dean held a hand up, arm extended toward the sky. Max stretched out his neck, and raised himself on his hind legs, perfectly still.

‘Good boy, Max,’ Dean rubbed a hand on Max’s cheek as both his hand and Max dropped. Max whinnied softly at the praise.

It had been a crappy day. Like a new addict, he was jittery and irritated because he hadn’t gotten his weekly fix. Here, with just Max for company, Dean wasn’t ashamed to admit that he missed Cas. Which was crazy, since he’d just seen him yesterday. But it was still true.

He wanted to see him, but what would be his excuse? He hoped, selfishly, that perhaps Cas was missing him too. No, his brain reasoned. Until he knew what Cas wanted, it would be better for him to stay away.

Dean tried to relax. He let his mind empty, focusing only on the horse before him, putting him through his paces, pushing at his limits, but knowing him enough to not push too hard. Max responded to his commands, and nuzzled at his neck at the soft words of praise, happy, in turn, to be at Dean’s side.

‘He loves you,’ came a deep rumble from the side.

‘And now I’m hearing his voice. Just fucking peachy!’ Dean complained to Max.

‘Dean?’ the voice asked.

Dean turned so fast he felt his neck crick in protest. Rubbing an absent hand over it, he saw Cas. His arms were draped over the paddock fence, his hair actually standing up as if he were modelling for an ad for hard-setting hair gel, and the piercing blue eyes studied Dean solemnly.

The pressure that had been building up in Dean’s chest throughout the day loosened slowly. He walked over to Cas with his mind screaming at him. But Dean refused to acknowledge any kind of rational thought. He knew this was a bad idea. He was past caring.

Cas’s eyes widened slightly as Dean walked purposefully toward him- two azure pools floating in an empty white sky. He straightened up from where he was resting against the fence, but Dean did not stop until their faces were a hairsbreadth away.

‘Tell me now if you don’t want this,’ Dean said, in a voice as low and intense as the fire in his eyes. The blue eyes burned into his for a moment, entrancing and entranced. Even if he tried, Castiel could not pretend to misunderstand the meaning behind Dean’s words.

‘I want this, I want…you,’ Castiel said. Dean did not give him a chance to change his mind. Two rough hands fisted in the front of Castiel’s pale blue button down, drawing him upwards and forwards.

Dean’s mouth branded him. A demand, a request, a claim. Castiel was unaware of anything but the feel of Dean’s lips moving against his.

There was a small part of his brain that was not being kissed into stupidity by Dean Fucking Winchester, and that part still continued to churn sluggishly. He understood, for the first time in his life, what the word ‘passion’ meant. He had read about it, he had seen actors depicting it, but to _feel_ it, to know it was Dean who kissed him like this, and it was him who evoked that passion in Dean, was powerful. Heady. Knowing that he returned the claim of Dean’s mouth, that Dean in turn, wanted what he wanted, was humbling.

‘Dean,’ he whispered, as Dean drew apart slightly to let them both catch their breath. The lower halves of their bodies were separated by the fence, but their torsos were still close together.

Dean’s eyes were wide with wonder, his breath blowing warmly over Castiel’s face until Castiel was sure that he drew it into his own lungs. Castiel wanted to hold it there, he wanted to hold Dean’s breath deep inside him, and treasure it for all eternity.

He reached out a tentative hand to touch the freckles over Dean’s cheekbone, and Dean closed his eyes.

There was a soft whinny and Max playfully pushed at Dean’s back, essentially sending him face forward into Castiel’s chest. Strong arms caught him and held him, one broad palm cupped his cheek again, and lips- soft and pale pink, pressed firmly against his, easing his mouth open.

Castiel kissed him softly, tenderly. As if he was the answer to a prayer. Dean felt the kiss in every fibre of his being. Castiel’s lips pushed their way into Dean’s mind, into his heart, into his _self_. There was another soft grunt, and Max pushed his own face against their joined faces, flapping his lips at their cheeks.

They broke apart on a chuckle, Dean placing his hand between Max’s eyes.

‘You’re getting as many apples as you can hold tomorrow,’ Dean whispered into Max’s ear. Max bobbed his head up and down in clear understanding.

Twilight was falling as Castiel and Dean walked back to the stables with Max. They rubbed him down -Dean showing a willing Castiel how much pressure to apply before it became uncomfortable- and then put the stable to rights. They talked as they worked, of small things, and big ones. Dean was ridiculously easy to talk to now, Castiel thought. It was as if the kiss had unlocked something inside them both, soothed over nerves, given them each hope, that this, _them_ , was something that could exist.

‘How about I make you some dinner?’ Dean asked, holding Castiel’s hand and bringing it up to his lips to press a small kiss on the back of his hand.

Dean’s lips were distracting. Dean’s lips touching his skin? Castiel forgot how to breathe, let alone respond.

‘Come on,’ Dean said, pulling him towards the stairs that led to the upper floor, towards Dean’s home.

And then Castiel remembered. ‘Dean, wait.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Dean let go off his hand. ‘I didn’t mean… you don’t have to come up if you don’t want to. I just - just dinner, I promise, that was all I was thinking of.’

‘That’s a pity,’ Castiel heard himself say. Surprised at his boldness, he brushed a finger against Dean’s lips, and Dean’s eyes closed again. Thrilled, Castiel moved his thumb more firmly, curious about the soft texture. He had never considered himself a poet, but now, he wished he could write a poem to Dean’s lips. The upper one formed a perfect bow, the dip in the middle perfectly placed, the arch so delicate that Castiel could spend years tracing the shape of it. The tip of Castiel’s thumb pushed Dean’s lips slowly apart, and Dean opened his eyes, exhaling shakily.

‘What are you doing to me, Cas?’ he growled, his bright eyes now darkened to an olive tone, glittering in entreaty and uncertainty.

‘I would love to go upstairs with you, Dean. I asked you to wait because I remembered I have some takeout in the car.’

‘Oh,’ Dean said. ‘ _Oh_ ,’ he repeated. ‘I’ll go get it.’

***

They ate the cheeseburgers Castiel had bought seated side by side on Dean’s couch. Dean put on the TV, and offered Castiel more comfortable clothing. Since the offer was followed by another one of Dean’s soul-scorching kisses, Castiel couldn’t refuse.

Dressed in one of Dean’s band t-shirts and a pair of soft cotton pajama pants, Castiel snuggled closer to Dean on the couch. Dean smiled over at him, his eyes soft and smiling.

‘What?’ Castiel asked.

‘We’re both wearing the same thing,’ Dean said, pointing to their matching clothes, ‘but I still like how you look, better.’

‘That’s lucky,’ Castiel said. ‘Because I like how you look, better.’

Dean fell asleep first, his head supported on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel drew him closer to his chest, and tucked the blanket more firmly around them both. Switching the TV off, he pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head and followed him easily into sleep.


	5. The hardest part of all, is that we're only built to fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from [Easier by 5 Seconds of Summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1dFSWLJ9wY).

Seated in the Impala outside Sammy’s, Dean tapped his cell phone on the steering wheel. His window was rolled all the way down, and the tape deck was turned off for once. He chewed at the tip of his thumb, thinking. The warm fullness of Castiel’s lips had been haunting him for the past two days. He could still function, still perform every single one of his jobs at the farm, but Cas was a phantom at the back of his head. Always there but impossible to reach, lurking just a little out of Dean’s reach.

A hulking shadow fell on Dean and he jolted, ready to fend off vampires and monsters and ghouls. But it was just his giant brother.

‘What are you doing outside my house, you creeper? Or can I guess?’

Dean pulled his choicest sneer out, ‘Don’t flatter yourself, dick.’

‘Where’s the sexy professor?’ Sam teased.

‘Does he have a doctorate? I mean, who-’

Sam just grinned. ‘Stop pretending, Dean. Why are you here?’

‘I…still don’t have his number,’ Dean mumbled.

Sam pulled his phone out and dialed, shit-eating grin still in place. Dean heard the rumbling answer of Castiel’s voice after a moment, and his fingers clenched tighter on the steering wheel.

Jesus, fuck. He had to relax. What was it about the professor? Dr. Novak. Oh shit, The Vision. No. Cas.

He focussed on Sam’s voice, and heard him say, ‘Okay, relax. We’ll be right over.’

‘What? Where?’ Dean asked, opening the door of the Impala and starting to step out.

‘Stay in the car, genius,’ Sam said. He stepped inside the house, yelled something to Jess, and came back to the car. Opening the door, he folded himself into the bench seat next to Dean, knees touching the dashboard.

‘What’s happening?’ Dean asked, turning the keys to start the ignition.

‘Take a left at the next corner,’ Sam said. ‘A pipe burst in the apartment above Castiel’s. His place is flooded.’

‘How is he?’ Dean heard himself asking.

‘I don’t know what to tell you, Dean. I’d say he’s attractive, but _I’m_ not the one who wants to get into his pants.’

Dean just growled. After a glance at his brother’s face, Sam’s face softened, the bitchface replaced by concern.

‘He sounded okay- a little shaken, maybe,’ he said.

‘What else did he say?’

‘Said he called the super. They’ve shut the water off from the mains, but his place is completely soaked. The guy upstairs is out of town, so the water kept flowing through the night. Castiel didn’t notice anything in the morning, he just got back from school to find everything drenched.’

‘Tough break,’ Dean said.

Sam nodded, continuing to give him directions until they were parked outside a small apartment building.

As they stopped outside Castiel’s door, the soles of Dean’s boots sunk wetly into the soggy carpet.

Sam knocked, and after a moment, Castiel opened the door. Sam heard Dean’s throat click shut, and could have sworn Dean was having an aneurysm.

Water fell in slow drips from a hole in the ceiling just above Castiel’s head. Dean followed one of the trickles with his gaze as it journeyed down the side of Castiel’s face, flowing smoothly down a tanned throat before disappearing down the V of the unbuttoned collar. Dean’s eyes flitted up again to make a more thorough survey. Castiel’s clothes were sopping wet, white shirt gone translucent as it stuck to his chest. The top buttons were, indeed, undone, and each inch of exposed skin was glistening wet. By the look of it, Castiel had been in the middle of changing his clothes- he was in his boxers, but these, too, were splotchily darkened by the water. Dean’s eyes fell on his feet- they were bare.

‘Breathe,’ Sam’s voice whispered warningly next to him. Dean breathed. Was it one in, two out? Four in, one out? Fuck, he’d get there eventually.

Castiel stood back to let them enter, and Sam pulled Dean in by the elbow. Castiel showed Sam around, both of them discussing the damage to his stuff. Dean did not follow. He stood just inside the door, avoiding the drips from the ceiling hole, hands fisted inside the pockets of his jeans, his eyes focussed unseeingly on the water under his boots.

Making a decision, he called, ‘Cas, you can’t stay here. Grab your stuff, you’re staying with me.’

Castiel walked back into the room, blue eyes flashing mad at Dean’s commanding tone. His shirt was still stuck to his chest, and Dean could just make out two pink nipples hardened by the cold wetness. Dean swallowed audibly, directing his gaze back to his boots.

‘I appreciate the kind offer, Mr. Winchester,’ Castiel said carefully, and Dean noted that the ‘Mr. Winchester’ was back. ‘I don’t want to trouble you. I will stay at a motel for some days.’

‘No trouble,’ said Dean. His face felt hot; his hands were too big and clumsy as they fisted, then relaxed, then fisted again, in his pockets.

‘Castiel,’ Sam began, pulling out his Convincing the Jury Voice, and Dean looked up hopefully. ‘You don’t know how long this will take; you can’t stay at a motel indefinitely. Dean has a spare room, and since Jody and Donna are taking tomorrow and the weekend off, I’m sure Dean would appreciate your help at the farm. Symbiosis, man.’

Dean furiously wrenched his mouth open, but then, considering, closed it again.

‘Oh,’ Castiel said, clearly conflicted. He looked from Sam to Dean, trying to make a decision. ‘Of course, I’ll be happy to help Dean.’

‘Great!’ Dean smacked his hands together, slowly rubbing one palm against the other. He would probably be twirling his moustache if he had one. Fuck.

‘Great,’ Dean tried again, fingers curling around the doorknob behind him. ‘Sammy will help you pack. I’ll be in the car.’

He escaped before they could stop him, and squelchily ran all the way down the stairs until he reached the Impala.

Shutting himself in, he brought the fascinating image of a wet and half-clothed Cas to the forefront of his mind. In his mind, he sent Sam back to the car, and entered the apartment alone, closing and locking the door behind him. He backed Cas into the wall and then kissed him brutally, trapping both his arms behind his back. Using his tongue to lick over the moisture at Cas’s neck, Dean pulled the wet body nearer his own, fingers digging into Cas’s broad back. And what a back it was. Mouthwateringly muscled- Dean had taken eager note of that. Every inch of Cas was muscled, from his broad shoulders to his thick thighs. Did he moonlight as a luchador?

Sinking into the fantasy, Dean thought about how his tongue would lave over those pink nipples through Cas’s shirt, and Cas would make a filthy little noise, his fingers stuck in Dean’s hair as he pulled him close. Dean would then kneel on the wet floor, and his mouth would close around Cas’s dick through his boxers.

The sound of a sudden knock on the passenger window sent Dean’s _Casa Erotica_ production collapsing around his ears.

Brussel sprouts! Dean thought wildly. Cabbage Soup! Pus-filled pimples! That seemed to work.

Dean looked up to see Sam pointing towards the back of the car with his thumb. It took a minute for Dean’s brain to click into action, and he bent over to roll the window down, passing Sam the keys to open the trunk. Sam just shook his head, a rueful expression crossing his face as he motioned Castiel towards the back of the car. They were both carrying a duffel bag each, and Cas had a black messenger bag slung across his body. Dean had seen the messenger bag before, it was the same one Cas carried to school every day.

Dean berated himself silently. His jeans were still uncomfortably tight, though his dick wasn’t as hard as it had been a minute ago. Thankfully, he had himself back in control when the trunk clunked closed.

Sam did not comment at Dean’s expression, he just smirked as he passed the keys back, seating himself next to Dean. Castiel settled on the back seat and Dean started the car.

‘Castiel’s car is in the shop, so it’s lucky we came, really.’ Sam said, pointedly looking straight ahead, out the windshield.

‘Great, that’s great,’ Dean mumbled.

After dropping Sam home, they decided to stop for some groceries. Dean was still hyper-aware of Cas’s body. Even more so as he sat next to him on the trip back to the farm.

There was a certain awkwardness between them now. Dean was uncomfortably conscious of it, but terrified of saying anything to Castiel. He wasn’t good with words.

The kisses they had exchanged at the beginning of the week seemed a distant memory, Dean thinking he had probably imagined them. Based on the visceral punch of his recent fantasy, Dean had a newfound respect for his imagination.

Did Cas regret what happened? Was that why he was so awkward around Dean now? Dean wanted to take them to the next level, but if kissing him had caused Cas to withdraw-

He had to control himself better. He liked Cas too much to lose him.

‘Do you wanna take a shower or something while I set up your room?’ Dean asked, leading Castiel up the stairs, carrying both of Cas’s duffels- one of which, Dean was positive, was filled entirely with books. Castiel’s own arms were wrapped around two bulging bags of groceries; the strap of the messenger bag was still slung across his body, but the bag itself was at his hip.

Castiel didn’t respond for a whole minute. When Dean looked back at him quizzically, he just nodded.

Jeez, Dean thought.

Dean spent the evening mostly sprawled on the couch in front of the TV, and Castiel remained firmly locked up in his room. Too conflicted to cook, Dean heated up a microwave pizza before knocking on Castiel’s door.

‘You want some pizza, Cas?’

‘Coming,’ Castiel said, his voice curiously breathy.

Dean made his way back to the couch.

‘What do you wanna watch?’, he asked, as Castiel sat down next to him.

‘Whatever you’re watching is fine,’ Castiel murmured, picking up his plate.

They did not talk as they ate. Each thought about the last time they had eaten on the couch together, and each felt a pang at what might have been.

After Dean had stormed out of his apartment, Sam had explained to Castiel how Dean became overbearing when he was feeling particularly emotional. Castiel, forgiving quickly, had gone so far as to delude himself into imagining a spark of lust in Dean’s eyes when he had opened the door. His heart had soared, silently rejoicing at the thought of spending more time with Dean. But then Dean had said how he would be preparing a separate room for him, and Castiel had received the message, loud and clear. Dean did not want to be with him.

Dean helped everyone. He was just helping Castiel until his apartment was liveable again. Castiel stared unseeingly at the bright pictures on the TV, the pizza tasting like cardboard in his mouth.

‘Do you need anything else?’, Dean asked when he had finished his pizza. ‘Another blanket, toothbrush, pyjamas?’

‘No, thank you. I have all I need.’

Dean nodded, eyes downcast.

‘What time do we start tomorrow?’ Castiel asked him, voice carefully neutral.

‘Start?’

‘Things here, at the farm. I have to go to the school, but I should be back by two. Which reminds me, where can I catch a bus?’

‘Stop being an idiot, Cas.’

Dean met Castiel’s eyes, and felt his insides turn to jelly. One of Castiel’s eyebrows was raised domineeringly, and he looked at Dean as though Dean was something mildly unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Dean wanted to spend an unspecified number of hours with Cas wearing that expression on his face- and nothing else. That eyebrow just…just… It slicked him up and hollowed him out.

You can do this, Dean. Deep breaths, in and out. Yes, that was good. What had he been saying to Cas?

‘You don’t have to take the bus, Cas. You can take the Impala. And Sam was just being crazy. You don’t have to help me with the farm. I can manage just fine on my own.’

‘I see,’ Castiel said. ‘I’d still appreciate you telling me about the bus though, or perhaps I can just start walking until I find a bus stop.’

‘If you don’t take that fucking stick out of your ass, I swear to God, Cas!’ Dean’s voice was raised now.

Castiel merely shot him another mildly contemptuous look before he started to rise from the couch.

‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ Castiel said, collecting both his and Dean’s plates. ‘I’m afraid I will be trespassing upon it tonight. But I’ll leave early tomorrow morning.’

Dean actually saw red - a thin film coating the edges of his vision. ‘You’re not going anywhere, asshole.’

‘I wasn’t aware I needed your permission,’ Castiel said, meeting fire with ice.

He started to walk past Dean, but Dean wasn’t having any of it. He pulled him around by the elbow, and snatched the plates from his hands. Dumping them on the coffee table without looking, Dean bore down on Castiel, who, to his credit, did not back away, but held his ground.

Dean stared into Castiel’s face for a long moment, trying to see past the anger roiling inside him. Fucking stubborn asshole with his pride! Why couldn’t he just stay? Didn’t he see that Dean wanted him to stay?

‘Stay,’ Dean heard the soft word, unaware that it had fallen from his own lips. Castiel looked surprised, so Dean pushed.

‘Stay, Cas.’

Castiel faltered, the glaciers in his eyes melting into a liquid pool.

‘What can I do to make you stay?’ Dean asked.

‘Let me help you.’

‘Deal,’ Dean said, too fast for it to be true.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed into slits.

‘I promise I’ll let you help,’ Dean said.

‘Good,’ Castiel said, backing away and picking up the plates again.

***

Cautious friendship restored, Dean and Castiel spent the next day going about their own businesses, with some overlap. Dean let Castiel help out a little, showing him how to muck the stalls and how to store the grain.

After a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, as Castiel stepped into the kitchen to load the dishwasher, Dean got up, and said, ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Cas.’

‘Where are you going?’ Castiel asked, scrubbing out the sauce stuck to the pot that Dean had forgotten to soak.

‘Just going to check on Leia,’ Dean said. ‘She’s off her feed. Rufus is away for some convention, he said he’d come by to check on her tomorrow morning.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Castiel said, drying his hands, and following Dean downstairs.

‘Something’s up,’ Dean said as he glanced into a couple of the stalls. ‘They’re nervous.’

Dean’s instincts had been right. Leia was lying on her side in her roomy stall, eyes wide in obvious pain.

‘Fuck,’ Dean said, crouching down next to her for a quick visual assessment. ‘I think she’s in the first stage of labor. You’ll be all right, girl. I’m here, Papa’s here,’ Dean rubbed softly at the pretty white mare’s cheeks as she huffed in pain, spasms causing her entire body to tremble.

‘What can I do?’ Castiel asked, hovering uncertainly outside the stall. ‘I’ve never witnessed a foaling, but I’m good at following directions. Can we give her something for the pain?’

Dean shot him a speculative glance. ‘I think I’ll have to take you up on that offer, Cas,’ he said. ‘This is her first. It’s going to be a long night.’

The night passed in a blur of nervous energy. After some persistent questions from Castiel, Dean confessed that he may need help guiding the foal out, so Castiel did not leave him alone. Dean had explained how Leia may get aggressive because she wasn’t familiar with Cas. So Castiel kept out of the way as Dean walked her, speaking to her in a calm, soothing voice. Castiel brewed coffee, heated up water, and made repetitive trips upstairs to hunt for anything Dean asked for.

It was three a.m. when they made their way back upstairs.

‘What do you wanna name him?’ Dean asked, sounding as exhausted as Castiel felt.

‘Ben Solo, of course,’ Castiel said, matter-of-factly. ‘He’s Leia’s son, isn’t he?’

The memory of the scorching look Dean sent him at these words kept Castiel awake for a long time- jade eyes stirring him up, each time he tried to relax.


	6. Our shadows on the wall and our hands everywhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from [Let's make a night to remember by Bryan Adams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xm9GlSbxy78).

‘Dean?’ Castiel called downstairs.

‘Morning, sleepyhead!’ Dean’s voice floated back to him.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ How long have you been up?’

Dean shrugged. It was past noon. He had wakened at his usual time and seen to the horses and the produce. He was sitting on the floor of the stables, surrounded by polish, rags, saddles, and bridles. ‘I had to check on Ben and Leia, didn’t I? Rufus came by as well. They’re both doing okay, he said.’

‘What are you doing, Dean? You look exhausted.’

‘Saturday is Cleaning Day,’ Dean said. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he still smiled across at Castiel as if he couldn’t be happier.

‘Give me that,’ Castiel said, grabbing the rag from Dean’s hands. ‘Go back up, get some sleep.’

‘You don’t even know what you’re doing, Cas.’

‘I’ll figure it out,’ Castiel said, voice low and angry. ‘Go on. I’ll come wake you in some time.’

***

Dean woke up to the appetizing smell of meatloaf. He poked his nose out of his room, scenting the air like a dog. Padding to the kitchen in his boxers, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Castiel was in the kitchen making dinner, an apron wrapped around his waist, hair wild and standing on end.

‘Hey,’ Dean said croakily. Castiel jumped and swore. ‘Need a hand?’

‘No,’ Castiel said, peeking into the oven. ‘I’ll be done in about thirty more minutes. Why don’t you take a shower? And you might want to check downstairs.’

When Dean returned, Castiel was adding finishing touches to the salad on two loaded plates.

‘Smells amazing, Cas. Where did you learn to cook?’ Dean uncapped two bottles of beer and carried them over to Castiel.

‘I picked up a few things from our housekeeper,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘Housekeeper, hanh? How rich are you?’

‘My family’s rich,’ Castiel said, as they seated themselves on either side of the small kitchen table. ‘I’m…not.’

‘Oof,’ Dean said. ‘You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I appreciate you pitching in with the farm and everything. You’ve been a tremendous help. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here last night. On an unrelated topic, if this meatloaf wants to, I’ll gladly have its babies.’

Castiel chuckled. He knew Dean was trying to distract him. The fact that Dean understood, that Dean didn’t push, made him want to trust Dean even more.

‘Thank you, Dean,’ he said, placing another bite in his mouth. He chewed slowly and swallowed. ‘I know you never ask any questions, and I appreciate it. But I’d like to tell you more about myself, if you’d like to know.’

‘Of course I would, Cas.’ Castiel met the emerald eyes above his plate and there was nothing but understanding in them.

‘I was a solitary child, growing up. My parents believed in home-schooling, so I didn’t have any friends. I read a lot of books, encyclopaedias, novels, memoirs, anything I could get my hands on. Thankfully, my father had a big library which he’d inherited from my grandfather. Neither of my parents read much.’

Castiel paused, chewing another bite and swallowing before he continued. Dean concentrated on Castiel’s words, fork moving automatically between his own plate and mouth. The compulsive book reading explained Castiel’s knowledge base and his formal way of talking, the home-schooling and resulting isolation could account for his social awkwardness.

‘My parents had my life planned out for me, and I naturally went along. Until, that is, when they tried to force me into a marriage of convenience.’

‘Not your type?’ Dean asked, when Castiel did not continue.

‘No, she was not. I was prepared to swallow my objections, however. It was more of a business arrangement between my father and hers. We started to spend some time together and she took pains to be a charming companion. I…wasn’t very comfortable with my sexuality back then. It took me a long time after I’d been on my own to finally come to terms with it.’

Dean swallowed. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that alone, Cas.’

‘Thanks, Dean. It wasn’t easy, but I’m happy with who I am now. Mostly.’

‘Why mostly?’

‘My upbringing has left an indelible stamp. I… oscillate… between who I was and who I want to be.’

‘That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Cas. You think any of us ever stop growing? I think you’re incredibly brave.’

Castiel did not speak for a full minute. Dean was afraid he had said something wrong. As the silence stretched, Dean opened his mouth to apologize, but Castiel spoke before he could form the words.

‘Thank you, Dean. You’re one of the best people I know, so your words mean a lot to me.’

Dean looked down at his plate. ‘You just think that because you don’t know me very well, Cas. I’m hardly anyone’s ideal. I’m a work in progress, at best.’

‘You just said that’s what all of us are, Dean. What you built here, and on your own, is a testament to your strength.’

‘Cas, if you keep talking like that, I’m not gonna be able to finish my meatloaf.’

One broad palm covered Dean’s fingers on the table. Dean looked up to see Castiel smiling at him. The blue ocean claimed him once more and he was lost in its depths, unable to think or move. 

‘So what happened with the girl?’ Dean asked, clearing his throat after Castiel released him from his gaze.

‘I walked in on her and my father’s secretary, I don’t think they were trying to hide anything anyway. I told my parents that I no longer wanted the marriage, but they seemed unaffected by her infidelity. They were more concerned with what they said was the weakness of my character. They told me I had to go ahead with the wedding, or they’d disown me. I left that night.’

‘Cas, that’s… I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t regret leaving, Dean. I just wish I had the strength to do it sooner.’

‘The relationship between a parent and a child is tricky, Cas. And I don’t think you should blame yourself for anything. No matter how or when it happened, you stood up for yourself, right? It was the right thing to do.’

Castiel nodded jerkily.

‘Trust me, it’s more than anything I could ever do.’

Castiel made a sympathetic noise, clearly curious, but unable to ask Dean to elaborate. Well, Cas had shared his story, hadn’t he? It must not have been easy but he’d bared a part of him that was still hurting, he had trusted Dean to understand. Maybe it was time for Dean to start trusting Cas too. Fair was fair. And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, sharing with Cas.

‘Our mom died when Sammy was just six months old,’ he began. ‘I was four. And Dad sort of… withdrew into himself. Dissociated. He drank a lot. Sammy and I went to sleep hungry a lot of times that year. But I learned to take care of them, slowly. Started cooking a little, burning my fingers and dozens of instant noodle packets. It was rough. Dad died before I hit my twentieth birthday. I tried to do all I could, you know? Still had Sammy to take care of, and luckily one of Dad’s friends, Bobby, helped a lot. He was more of a father to Sammy and me than our own dad was. He passed too, last year. Bobby Singer. I named the farm after him.’

They were both quiet for a while. Castiel’s fingers had tightened on Dean’s hand, but he hardly noticed the pressure.

Collecting his scattered wits, Dean got up to clear their plates. Castiel started to protest, but Dean shut him up with, ‘You cooked.’

Castiel let him set the kitchen to rights. When Dean started to walk towards his room, however, Castiel stopped him by grabbing on to his elbow.

‘Dean, I…I cannot imagine having to live with all that pain and…responsibility… at such a young age. Especially for someone who loves so deeply. You called me brave, but don’t you see what you are?’

‘I just did what had to be done, Cas. Nothing special.’ Dean shrugged, staring at the tips of his boots.

‘You’re wrong. You’re the best of all of us, Dean Winchester.’

Dean looked up at that. Castiel just stared solemnly into his eyes.

Dean found himself smiling. So Cas thought he wasn’t a complete waste of space?

‘You wanna do something, together?’ Dean asked.

‘I’d love to,’ Castiel smiled back.

Dean grabbed another couple of beers and both of them camped on the couch side by side. Dean handed the remote to Castiel, who picked a show at random. _Pandamonium_ , it was called. Dean found himself grinning at Castiel’s obvious delight in watching baby pandas rolling around in unadulterated chaos.

At some point in the evening, Castiel’s head lowered to Dean’s shoulder, and their feet entangled under the throw Dean had pulled over them. Cherishing the warmth of Castiel next to him, Dean snuggled in deeper, happy.

Neither one bothered to turn on the lights, and their faces were bathed in the warm bluish glow from the TV screen. Here, in the dim light of the TV, it was easy to imagine that the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. Worries, promises, insecurities- nothing existed in that moment. There was the sound of pandas and rain from the TV, the warmth of Castiel on Dean’s side, and the support of Dean’s shoulder under Castiel’s cheek. They were just two people who had found each other, each accepting, for the moment, who the other was.

Castiel turned towards Dean slowly, hesitantly, and pressed a small kiss on the side of his mouth. Before Dean could react, Castiel had turned his head back towards the TV.

‘What was that for?’, Dean asked softly.

‘For you being you.’

‘Can I give you something for you being you?’

Castiel turned to him again, eyes raised to Dean’s in shy surprise. With one hand around Castiel’s waist and the other cupping his cheek, Dean pulled him forward. Caution be damned.

Warm lips closed around his own. Dean eased Castiel’s mouth open with his tongue and pulled him even closer. Castiel’s body moved until he was sitting in Dean’s lap, a knee pressing into the couch on each side of Dean’s hips.

Their tongues entwined, Dean pulled and Castiel pushed closer, until there was no space between them. Dean’s hands banded around Castiel’s back, while Castiel’s fingers cupped his face. The kiss deepened, mouths opening and tongues searching, as Cas melted against Dean.

Dean’s hands eased under the hem of Castiel’s shirt to press urgently into Castiel’s lower back. Castiel was surrounded by Dean’s scent, his world had centred around the freckles dusting Dean’s cheeks as his fingers stroked them tenderly. Castiel’s mouth broke away from Dean’s only to pull the still-buttoned shirt over his head and throw it on the floor. Castiel pulled at Dean’s shirt next, and before another minute had passed, Dean’s flannel and then the undershirt, joined Castiel’s on the floor.

Castiel’s mouth branded around Dean’s once more, his fingers digging into the tops of Dean’s shoulders and then pressing into and exploring Dean’s newly exposed chest. Dean moaned into Castiel’s mouth, his own hands doing nothing except pressing into Castiel’s broadly muscled back, pulling Castiel closer, even closer.

He wanted to absorb Cas somehow, push him deep inside his own chest so that they became one. That way he could carry Cas’s warmth with him wherever he went. Protect him from everything else. His own personal talisman and guide.

Eager fingers pressed into skin, bruising flesh and kindling fires. Their bodies moved together, Castiel’s fingers cupping the bulge in Dean’s jeans, teasing and squeezing until Dean was panting in his ear. Castiel held Dean’s face to his, kissing him hungrily, as if hoping to memorize the taste of his tongue. When Dean couldn’t take any more of Castiel’s focussed plundering, he prised his back off the couch and lowered Castiel along its length, Castiel’s head coming to rest under the armrest as Dean pressed him deeper into the cushions.

Dean closed his teeth at the base of Castiel’s neck, just where his shoulder began, and Castiel whimpered, hips grinding against Dean’s mindlessly. One of Castiel’s hands encircled Dean’s neck, the other trailing possessively along Dean’s side, as Dean bit mind-numbing kisses all the way from Castiel’s neck down to his waist.

Dean moved slowly back up the taut chest, resting his forehead against Castiel’s. ‘You’re beautiful,’ Dean murmured. ‘Cas, you’re beautiful.’

The blue in Castiel’s eyes was almost black. ‘Dean, please, I need…’

‘What, babe? Tell me what you need.’

‘I need you inside me,’ Castiel growled. His hands slid under Dean’s jeans to expose the round curve of Dean’s ass, kneading as he pressed Dean’s hips closer to his own groin and moved slowly, tortuously, against Dean.

‘ _Fuck._ Hold that thought.’ With a humongous effort of will, Dean stumbled off the couch, and ran to his bedroom. He was back before Castiel could do more than blink at his sudden absence.

Dean met Castiel’s lips again, trying to pull his own pants off with one hand while prising open the bottle of lube caught between his chest and his forearm, with the other.

‘Let me,’ Castiel mumbled, nibbling on his lower lip, as his hands replaced Dean’s on his belt. He drew Dean’s jeans and boxers off together. Dean helped, before Castiel’s fingers worked at the button of his own jeans.

Finally, finally, he was naked. Dean’s entire body pressed lengthwise into his, exposed and sensitized skin meeting in sweet harmony, and Castiel welcomed his weight, his warmth, as his entire being focussed on Dean. Just Dean.

Castiel did not notice when Dean opened the lube, but soon, silky fingers were rubbing small circles at the sensitive pucker between Cas’s thighs. Dean’s mouth closed around Castiel’s bulging deltoid, sucking, tongue laving and teeth biting, before leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses as he moved slowly towards Castiel’s left nipple. Dean caught the nipple with his teeth and Castiel’s body bucked. At the same time, one of Dean’s fingers eased inside Castiel, and Castiel pressed him even closer, his hips thrusting against Dean’s own erection. Pressed so tightly together, Castiel gloried in the feeling of Dean’s dick moving silkily against his, mirroring the motion of Dean’s fingers moving inside Castiel. Dean’s mouth was still teasing his nipple, alternating between the two hardened nubs. Dean’s teeth bit at Castiel’s neck as Castiel moaned, endearments mixing with curses as they rolled off his tongue.

The TV was still on, bathing their bodies in a soft blue light as they loved.

‘Dean, now! Now, now, now!’ Castiel’s voice was low and hoarse, urging Dean’s fingers and his mouth into a frenzy.

As Dean fumbled with the condom wrapper, Castiel said, ‘I’m clean. I need to feel you, Dean. Please.’

An extremely devout ‘Thank Fuck!’ burst out of Dean. He let the still-wrapped condom fall from his fingers, as he pulled Castiel by the thighs, toward him. Dean paused for a moment, eyes raking over Cas as his chest heaved unsteadily. He took a moment to run his hands down Castiel’s legs and twist his ankles together behind Dean’s back. His brain registered how totally wrecked Cas looked. Mouth open to expel panting breaths, tanned skin flushed delicately, body trembling, arms draped over the end of the couch above his head. Cas was naked under him, Dean thought. Fucking finally.

He eased himself inside, Castiel’s breathless moans doing nothing to help his control, until he felt Castiel close around him, warm and tight.

‘Dean,’ Castiel croaked, his voice a prayer.

Dean bent to press another kiss on Castiel’s lips, teeth closing over the thick bottom one as he began to move. His hands were clutching Castiel’s shoulders, holding him in place as he thrust, sliding over Castiel’s prostate on every movement. Castiel’s hands were everywhere, biting into Dean’s pecs, cupping around his waist, nails cutting into Dean’s shoulder blades, pressing into his lower back, and then moulding the shape of Dean’s ass.

Dean buried his face into the side of Castiel’s neck, and slipped one of his hands between them to wrap around Castiel’s dick. Dean’s hips paused for a second as Castiel fucked into his fist, and then resumed moving in time with Castiel’s thrusts into his hand.

The pace was brutal, and Dean knew he could not sustain it for long. Castiel was so warm, so responsive, cocooning him and surrounding him as if he was fucking _drowning_ in the sea of his eyes.

The indigo eyes burned into Dean’s soul, and he was lost.

Castiel’s body quaked under him, and he said Dean’s name again, low, guttural, and broken. His name on Castiel’s lips was a clear command, and Dean’s body obeyed instantly, the orgasm ripping through him in waves, sudden but endless. He kept rolling his hips, mouth clamped tightly around Castiel’s corded neck as he felt Castiel shuddering under him, around him.

The sticky wetness in his fist and against his stomach, the stuttering movement of Castiel’s dick in his hand, and Castiel’s rough expulsion of breath, were the sweetest things Dean had ever felt or heard.

Castiel’s head dropped backward into the cushion, boneless, and Dean’s body relaxed against the shape of him, Dean’s breath a harsh symphony as he pressed a kiss near Castiel’s ear.

‘I’ll get up in a minute,’ Dean said, his body pressing deeper into Castiel’s.

‘Who’s complaining?’ Castiel gasped.


End file.
